A Yuletide Tale
by TreeHugger
Summary: It is Yuletide Eve in Mirkwood. Can the magic of the season, and the love and support of friends help a young Elf to find his voice again?


Disclaimer: I do not own any of Master Tolkien's wonderful characters, and I make no money from them. I do own my own characters, the ones you will not find within the sacred tomes of the Master.  
  
Author's Note - This is my answer to Soledad's challenge. I had this story in mind for some time, and had decided that I wasn't going to write it, but unfortunately for me, I cannot resist a challenge so I put pen to paper and wrote it.  
  
Also, Katharine the Great and I are writing a story called "The Jade King". Chapter 1 is up already. It is set in her LOTR universe. In it Bronadui is killed during the King's hunt. My Yuletide tale is set in my LOTR universe and Bronadui was killed in a different hunt in my own world. Please go and check out our joint effort. It can be found under Katharine the Great's name. It will be worth it. Thank you.  
  
Thank you to al, my beta. Yes, I am a bad, impatient child. :(  
  
Now on to the story.  
  
  
  
A Yuletide Tale  
  
  
  
A gentle snow was falling through the interlaced branches of the great trees of Mirkwood to carpet the land in a fresh blanket of white. Ice glittered on trunks and limbs, decorated with the brave birds that remained to grace the winter landscape with their bright, sweet songs.  
  
Every summer and harvest season the Elves gathered the various seeds and grains that would help to sustain the birds through the winter. For this reason the trees that surrounded Gladaran Thamas were ever filled with the sound of avian joy and contentment. When the younglings would grow weary with the seed gathering, Bronadui, who was always in charge of this particular task, would laugh and say;  
  
"We gather seed to fill their bellies so they may fill our ears with song."  
  
So when the snows came flying and the birds of summer had winged south, Bronadui would gather the younglings once more to help him fill the cleverly crafted feeders with the bounty they had collected with their own hands.  
  
"Do you see?" the tall brown-haired Silvan Elf would say as the birds flocked happily to the feeders, chattering and singing songs of thankfulness to the Elves for their kindness. "They are sharing their gift of song with us, as we share the gift of Ennor's bounty with them."  
  
The young Elves would agree that the hard labor in the warm sun was indeed worth the effort that it had cost them.  
  
Every Yuletide Eve night the Elves of Mirkwood would gather in the Yule Court where grew a tall fir tree, its boughs green and glowing with lanterns of silver and colored glass which twinkled like stars. Ornaments of wood and bone were carved in the likeness of birds and beasts, leaves and stars. Each year special ornaments were carved in the likeness of the Elves that had gone to the Halls of Mandos, or had journeyed across the Western Sea to Valinor. These were added to the tree on Yule night by the family of the deceased or departed, then kept as a memorial to those who were no longer numbered amongst them. The last carving done this year was that of Bronadui, who had been killed during an Orc attack on a hunting party in the fall. Several Elves had been wounded that day, and many Orcs lay felled by Elvish arrows and knives, but only one Elf had died. Tawarant the carver had been very occupied with this sad task. Yuletide was a time of great joy and wonder, a time of magic and peace, but it was also a time to remember, a time of solemnity as well as merriment.  
  
***************************  
  
On Yuletide Eve morning, Legolas gazed out the window at the glittering landscape, and smiled happily. Today he and his other age mates would help gather the last branches of holly and evergreens needed for the windows as well as to finish decorating the Hall. He always enjoyed these forays into the forest with his companions. It was a time for snowball fights, sliding over the slippery ground, and seeing who could find the most crow's foot, a small evergreen plant with feathery leaves, poking up through the drifts of snow. He sprinted excitedly across the room to pull out a warm green cloak embroidered with silver vines, and a pair of sturdy boots. He shoved his feet into the boots, tugging at them and wiggling his toes to get his socks straight. He planned on meeting Tavor and Brethil at Car an Neled, their newly constructed tree house, before they joined the others. The young Elf prince frowned sadly. Ever since the hunting trip in the fall when Bronadui had died Brethil, who was once so loquacious and lighthearted, had barely spoken, usually answering in monosyllables. He never smiled or laughed any more; his sad grey eyes were often red from all the tears he shed. He had never mentioned his father in the all months that had passed, and Legolas knew this is what had distressed King Thranduil the most. The time the three friends spent together was usually steeped in uncomfortable silences that Legolas and Tavor feared to break, as neither knew what they could say to ease their friend's grief over the loss of his Adar.  
  
Legolas sighed, wriggling his right foot some more to force the boot and the wayward sock into a more comfortable position, as he fastened the heavy woolen cloak about his throat with a silver pin fashioned in the shape of an ivy leaf. He ran a slim hand down the back of his head to make certain that the intricate child's braid that he wore wasn't too messy and required no brushing or fixing, then walked across the room and out the door.  
  
The youngest prince of Mirkwood was a firm believer in the magic of Yuletide, a magic that was not present any other time of the year. There was something in the very air itself that sang of wonders and enchantments that would last for only this one season and then vanish until the next year when the season returned. He fervently hoped that this glorious magic could help Brethil's grief and pain to ease. Even now as Legolas hurried down the corridor, the smells that were so magical in their own way wafted to his nose and set his stomach rumbling. He grinned, hastened his pace and nearly plowed into Galion, who was unable to see where he was going over the pile of pressed linens he carried. The butler cried out in surprise, nearly spilling the cloths from his hands.  
  
"I am sorry, Galion!" Legolas gasped, helping to steady him, as he took several of the cloths from the pile. They were all the Yuletide colors: holly berry reds, snow whites, forest green, wintry blues, and rich purples. Each was stitched with clever designs to commemorate the season: some with snowflakes of white, blue, and silver, some with holly leaves and berries, some with pine boughs and cones. Some bore small birds and others animals like squirrels, deer, rabbits, and chipmunks, all denizens of Mirkwood. One cloth of richest dark blue was embroidered with a myriad of tiny silver and gold stars. This one would grace the table where the Yule Gifts for the children would be placed the next day before the grand Yule Feast.  
  
"Thank you, Prince Legolas," Galion murmured appreciatively. "You really must learn to slow down, young one. We are very busy in here today."  
  
Legolas smiled and laughed.  
  
"Yes, isn't it wonderful?" He trotted after the butler, carrying the cloths into the great dining room, which was already festooned with garlands of evergreen boughs, holly, pinecones, and various winter berries. Bright ribbons of silver, gold, and green had been woven about them in a pleasing manner, and the scent of candles filled the air. A fire already burned cheerily in the great fireplace, the mantle carved with woodland scenes of great trees and shy, large eyed animals and birds. A thick spill of greenery lay across its length, spiraling about the elegant candleholders shaped like trees and twining vines. Small beads of colored glass glittered on fine wires, sparkling like the tiniest of stars. Legolas' eyes shone. Yes, there was magic all about; it even seemed to glimmer in the very air. It was Yuletide!  
  
After leaving the dining hall and hurrying back to the main Hall, he paused to watch several Elves hanging garlands from the stone columns that flanked the entry. The crisp resin scent filled the air, mingling in a most pleasing manner with the spicy scents of cinnamon and cloves. His stomach rumbled once more as he pictured all the wonderful treats being prepared in the kitchens below. His eyes brightened mischievously as a sudden thought to take a detour through the kitchens before venturing out into the snowy world flickered through his mind.  
  
"Where are you going, nin caun?"  
  
Legolas halted in his tracks, and turned slowly. Standing behind him, arms folded across his chest, was Tanglinna the Master Archer of Mirkwood. The long silver hair had been pulled back in a loose braid that hung to the lean waist; grey eyes as bright and hard as stars were fixed on the younger Elf. He raised one argent brow as he awaited the prince's answer.  
  
"I was, um, just, um, going to the kitchens, Master Tanglinna," Legolas began, making a concerted effort to keep his foot in place as he wanted to do nothing more than drop his gaze to the ground and trace the intricate spiraling pattern on the ornate rug he stood upon, anything to avoid meeting those hawk-like eyes.  
  
"Oh, truly? The kitchens?" Tanglinna said with a touch of amusement. "Whatever for, Prince Legolas?"  
  
Legolas frowned and stared up at him. There was something very odd in the Master Archer's face, something that he had not seen there for quite some time. Not for an entire year at least!  
  
"Well, I . . . that is *we* are going to gather the last of the greenery for the hall this morning, and well. . . I thought. . . "  
  
"Yes, I see," Tanglinna said, his eyes fixed on Legolas' face, making the child squirm uncomfortably.  
  
As yet Legolas had done nothing wrong, so why was the Elder gazing at him like that? He was wearing his outdoor boots, and his warmest cloak. His hair was neatly braided, or nearly so. He had washed his face. What was wrong?  
  
"You had better hurry then," Tanglinna continued in a pleasant voice. "Your friends will be waiting for you."  
  
Legolas stared up at him in amazement. More amazing still was the look of. . . could it be mirth? Not a fell mirth as he often wore when Legolas had gotten caught at some prank, but a true joyous mirth filled with good feelings?  
  
"I can go?" the prince asked, gazing disbelievingly into the soft eyes.  
  
"Of course, youngling. Go. Enjoy the day."  
  
Legolas blinked several times, a grin spreading slowly across his face.  
  
"Thank you, Master Tanglinna! Thank you! You enjoy the day too!" He turned and was already sprinting down the hall when Tanglinna called to him,  
  
"Nin caun (my prince)."  
  
The child halted once again and turned, wondering if he had imagined the gentle look and the kind, generous words. Or perhaps it had been a momentary lapse on the part of the Master Archer due to the bewitchment wrought by the wonderful scents in the air and the sound of the Yuletide hymns and songs that the Elves were singing, and it had worn off. He sighed softly meeting the stern old Elf's gaze reluctantly.  
  
"Yes, Master Tanglinna?"  
  
"Make certain you take enough for everyone."  
  
Legolas gasped, staring in wonder at the true, joyous, most unusual merriment that shone in the other's eyes.  
  
"I . . . I will, Master Tanglinna. Thank you."  
  
Tanglinna laughed, not his usual dark bark, but one of delight and happiness.  
  
"Now scoot, youngling. They are waiting for you," he said as Legolas stared at him as though he wondered if this were indeed the Master Archer, or if some lighthearted spirit had taken his place.  
  
Legolas gazed at him in uncertainty, then he grinned. Of course! It was the magic of Yuletide. It was too strong and blessed for even Tanglinna to resist. The child practically leapt across the space separating them and bestowed a fierce hug on the oldster. Before Tanglinna could react, Legolas was skipping happily down the hall, singing in his high childish voice. If the Yuletide magic could engender such a change in Tanglinna, then he knew that Brethil would be helped by it as well.  
  
Tanglinna shook his head, bemused.  
  
"Younglings," he breathed softly, his lips curling in a gentle smile as he watched the green caped child fly down the corridor, braid flopping, boots thumping in his excitement. "What would we do without them to keep our lives interesting. . . and bright."  
  
*************************  
  
When Legolas at last arrived at Car an Neled bearing a basket filled with tarts, cookies, and small sugared cakes, as well as two flasks of hot cider and several cups, Tavor and Brethil were already waiting for him. Tavor looked very relieved to see him, and moved quickly to meet him.  
  
"We were beginning to wonder if you had gotten lost," he said. It distressed him greatly that he didn't know how to act around Brethil any more, and he didn't like to be in this most uncomfortable situation alone. So it was with great relief that he greeted Legolas' arrival. "I see now that you did get lost. In the kitchens, no less. What have you got?" He reached into the basket, easing back the heavy red and white checked cloth that covered the rather impromptu feast for the "Green Hunters", as Maeraes the head of Thranduil's kitchens had called the small group setting out this morning in search of "good green things for the Hall."  
  
"Lots," Legolas answered, his eyes going to Brethil who was crouched on the ground, a small chickadee perched on his slim hand eating the seeds that the young Elf had brought for it. As Legolas watched, Brethil gently stroked the black-capped head. Normally a steady stream of soft chatter would be accompanying these actions, but today there was naught but the small bird's contented chirping. Legolas sighed quietly, his eyes moving to Tavor who merely shook his head sadly.  
  
"Bright day, Brethil!" Legolas called to him with forced cheerfulness, holding out the basket. "Look what Maeraes sent for us!"  
  
Brethil turned to look at him, standing slowly so as not to dislodge his little friend. His lips twitched slightly in an acknowledging smile, but the grey eyes remained distant and shuttered. Legolas suppressed a sigh, and smiled gently in answer.  
  
"It's really good," Mirkwood's prince said, wishing that the enchanting, warm smells would tempt even a few words from his friend.  
  
Tavor had managed to grab a sugared cake, and stood contemplating it for a moment, dark grey eyes sparkling with anticipation. He took a bite and closed his eyes in delight.  
  
"It *is* really good!" he agreed, as he shoved the entire cake into his mouth and then licked his fingers. "I love Yuletide. Don't you?" Slender fingers wrapped about yet another cake, but Legolas slapped the top of his hand, causing Tavor to release his newly pinched treat with a yelp of surprise.  
  
"It is for *all* of us, Tavor. Can't you wait?" Legolas scolded, one eyebrow cocking in an imitation of his Ada, hoping that his rather comical attempt would coax a real smile out of Brethil.  
  
"No," Tavor announced with a glance at Brethil. "Anyway, I was getting one for Brethil just now."  
  
"Of course you were," Legolas said sarcastically. He moved away from Tavor, and came to stand by the third member of the Tricksy Trio. "Go ahead, take one for yourself, Brethil."  
  
The young Elf merely shook his head and murmured, "No, thank you."  
  
Legolas and Tavor gazed at one another once more. Tavor shrugged and shook his head. Legolas sighed, heaving the basket, which was quite heavy.  
  
~I know the magic will work on Brethil. I just know it will.~  
  
He readjusted the checked cloth, and then eased the basket into the crook of his arm.  
  
"Let's go and find the others," he said, moving across the snow, enjoying the feel of the cold flakes kissing his cheeks before melting away.  
  
"I will help you carry that, Legolas," Tavor volunteered, trotting quickly after him. "Come on, Brethil. Hurry up, or the others may leave without us. . . Not that their leaving would be a bad thing. Then there would be more of these for the rest of us." He smiled mischievously at Brethil, then darted toward Legolas and made as if to grab another treat from the basket.  
  
Legolas growled at his friend and set the basket down in one swift motion, scooped up a handful of snow, shaped it into a rough ball, and threw it at his friend, who had backpedaled several feet seeing what was going to happen. The snowball hit Tavor in the side as he was bending to make one of his own. Soon the air was filled with flying white missiles and the sound of happy, childish laughter. Brethil's little chickadee had flown to safety in the branches over the Elves' heads, and watched them, cocking its head to one side, chirping as though it was cheering them on. Suddenly Tavor and Legolas stood staring at one another, arms flung back, ready to begin their next assault when they grinned and turned to look at Brethil, their eyes bright with mischief. Brethil blinked and shook his head. Tavor's grin widened as he slowly advanced on the younger Elf.  
  
"You had better defend yourself, Brethil," he said tossing the snowball up and down in his palm. "You'll be sorry if you don't."  
  
Brethil frowned and glanced at Legolas, who shrugged and grinned.  
  
~Let the magic work, ~ the prince thought, praying to all of the Valar, and whatever mysterious being was in charge of Yuletide. ~Please. Let the magic work to heal Brethil's pain. ~  
  
Before Brethil had time to react, Tavor sent the snowball flying at him. Legolas held back, not as certain about this strategy as he had been. Brethil gasped as it hit him in the chest. Tavor laughed and grabbed up yet another handful of snow. Brethil turned away from him and crouched down in a protective ball.  
  
"Tavor," Legolas began, one hand moving out to stop him from launching another assault, but it was too late. This time the snow splattered against Brethil's cloak, in the center of his back. "Tavor! Just stop!"  
  
Tavor's face fell as he looked at the still form crouched by the trees. He sighed, feeling like an idiot.  
  
"I am sorry, Brethil. I didn't mean to hit you with the snowball," he said, easing closer. "I am really sorry." He grimaced, gazing at Legolas who looked as stricken as Tavor felt. "I *am* sorry, Legolas."  
  
Suddenly Brethil stood and threw a snowball directly at Tavor. It caught the startled young Elf on the arm, followed quickly by one that struck Legolas on the leg. Tavor gasped in shock -a most pleasant shock - and soon the three were pelting snowballs at one another, feeling more like themselves, and happier than they had been in one another's company for some time.  
  
The day turned out to be fun, filled with much laughter and chatter, and though Brethil remained quiet for the most part, Legolas felt hope swell within him. He knew that the Yuletide magic would work. It always did.  
  
The "Green Hunters" returned, bearing baskets filled with fragrant greenery, laughing and chattering at one another. Brethil, though not making any sounds of happiness, was smiling. Waiting to greet their return were the Queen of Mirkwood and her friend the Lady Glaurhunant. The two tall beauties were standing side by side wrapped in long woolen cloaks of light blue, long pale hair unbound and spilling down their slim backs.  
  
Legolas smiled as he ran up the steps, across the snow-covered terrace, and flew into his mother's waiting arms.  
  
"Oh, Naneth! We had such a good time!" he said breathlessly as he tipped his head back to stare up at her, blue eyes sparkling above cold, pink cheeks. "Maeraes gave us treats to eat, and hot cider to drink, and Tanglinna said it was okay to have them!"  
  
Brenillass laughed at him, her long slender fingers stroking his chilled face, and then moving to brush a long damp strand of hair from his brow.  
  
"Did you succeed in your mission, nin mell (my dear)?" she asked, enjoying his childish excitement. "Your brothers and the others aren't back from their hunt yet. You are much faster than they are!" she praised, wondering how the older hunters were faring, as they sought game to fill the table on the morrow. She saw a glint of satisfaction fill her son's eyes as he gloated over the fact that he and his friends had accomplished their goal quicker than Celebross and Aralith.  
  
"Oh, yes! We brought lots back with us! We had lots of fun, didn't we, Brethil?" he said, as his friend joined them, bowing to the Queen before moving to stand by his mother. She gently stroked his damp hair as she smiling down into his pale grey eyes. She was rewarded with a smile which actually bloomed in his eyes.  
  
"I think you all brought *lots* of snow back," Glaurhunant laughed, taking in the snow-covered leggings, boots, cloaks, and jackets of all the "Green Hunters" who looked more like "White Hunters now, so covered with snow were they. Her heart had leapt in joy at the smile, the first true smile she had seen on her son's face since Bronadui's death. Too often his eyes were filled with tears, or shuttered and empty as the wall he built against the pain went up. Anything that reminded him of his beloved Adar was ignored, and not seen. Glaurhunant had worried about how he would react to this night's festivities. Usually he was as excited as any other child in Mirkwood, chattering away about the lights, the food, the presents, the songs, but this year he had as yet to mention it at all. "Did you have fun, tithen mistlam (little wandering tongue)?" The nickname chosen by his father years before did not seem to fit him now. Glaurhunant hoped that it would become appropriate once more. . . very soon.  
  
Brethil nodded, moving to embrace her, burying his face in her dress, finding comfort in the sweet unique smell that was his mother's.  
  
"Why don't you get the others, and go into the Hall?" the queen of Mirkwood said with a smile. "They are waiting for you, and," Brenillass paused dramatically, her own blue eyes sparkling as she saw the anticipation in her son's eyes, "King Thranduil has a surprise for all of you."  
  
Legolas gasped and turned to look at Brethil, excitement humming through his slim body.  
  
"Let's go!" he exclaimed, grabbing Brethil's hand and pulling him back across the terrace, and down the steps to where the others waited, throwing more snowballs.  
  
Brenillass watched them go, her eyes soft with love.  
  
"He will be fine, muin meldis (dear friend)," she murmured, laying one hand on Glaurhunant's arm. "He just needs time to recover. As do you. You will need to be strong for him. . . as he has been for you."  
  
A rush of hot tears flooded Glaurhunant's eyes, and she nodded. The ache in her heart was so great that she knew if she did not have Brethil to tie her to life she would give in to the grief that tore at her very soul, and join her beloved in the Halls of Mandos. Brethil had been very brave, the dear little soul coming to her in the night when he had heard her weeping in despair and holding her in his small arms, silent, yet supportive and loving.  
  
"Yes, time," she whispered. She wondered if indeed there was enough time, even for one of the Elder race for this sort of wound to heal entirely. She didn't believe there was.  
  
The young hunters filed past, bowing to the Queen after stamping as much snow from their boots and clothing as possible, then disappeared into the Hall for their "surprise." Brethil bowed to Brenillass once more, and smiled at his mother before following the others inside. Legolas grinned at the two women, then he tugged on his mother's cloak, standing on tiptoe until she bent her ear to his mouth.  
  
"Everything will be fine, Naneth," he whispered fervently, one hand cupped to her ear. "If the Yuletide magic can make Master Tanglinna nice, it can help Brethil. I know it can." He eased back onto his feet and smiled at Glaurhunant, then he turned and sped into the palace, calling to his friends to wait for him.  
  
***************************  
  
Tanglinna watched as the group of children gathered around King Thranduil, who was dressed in an informal robe of rich green, embroidered with tiny holly leaves instead of the usual oak and beech. Brenillass had joined them, Glaurhunant standing at her side, a smile on their lips as they watched the Elflings receive their surprise. The King had Maeraes prepare a rich cocoa for the younglings, a rare treat in this northern kingdom, and Thranduil poured the rich, creamy chocolate drink from a large silver pot, handing the mugs to the little "hunters," who were very happy to receive this gift from the King himself. Tanglinna smiled as he watched them sipping the steaming liquid. Tavor had gulped his down quickly, and was waiting to be the first one to receive seconds. The archer shook his silvery head. The younglings were always so predictable, yet for all that remained highly entertaining. Prince Legolas waited patiently until all the others had their mugs filled before moving to take one for himself. While the Master Archer watched, the Prince receive his own reward for "a job done well", and smiled up at his tall Adar, love shining in the blue eyes. Tanglinna's smile widened as Thranduil winked at his son, and then turned to tease Tavor about how quickly he had finished the cocoa. It still amazed him how the King enjoyed his interaction with the children of his kingdom. Thranduil could be stern and unmoving at times, but he truly cared for his subjects, their joys becoming his own, as well as their sorrows. Each death in his woodland realm was a blow to his strong, caring heart. He saw the king's rich blue eyes move to rest on Brethil. Tanglinna saw the flash of pain as he gazed at the silent child.  
  
  
  
The Master Archer's eyes studied young Brethil Bronadui. He had noted that the child seemed happier today than he had since Bronadui's death, and this warmed the old archer's heart. Perhaps the words that seemed lost in the depths of the child's heartbreak would resurface soon. It would do them all good. Bronadui had been a good friend for many years, and his death had been a blow to Tanglinna's heart, and it grieved him even more to see his friend's son so sorrowful and silent. The child's chatter, it was true, had been irritating at times, but its absence was almost more than he could bear. He had spoken to Glaurhunant about it. It distressed her as well, though she felt certain that in time his loquaciousness would return. Tanglinna felt much the same, though it grieved him to see the child trying to shut out anything that would remind him of his deceased parent.  
  
~If only he would speak, ~ the tall archer thought, ~ and to think that at one time I wished he would not speak *as* much! ~  
  
A movement on the other side of the Hall caught the Master Archer's eyes, and he turned to see Tawarant the carver enter from the far corridor. He was carrying a small, slender box, covered with black velvet, the silver clasp glinting in the light of the fire and the flickering candles and torches. He saw the carver's green eyes move to where Glaurhunant and Brethil stood, and he bowed his head slightly. Tanglinna knew what was in that box, and he knew that if Brethil became aware of the carver the child's good mood would vanish, the grey eyes losing all emotion. The tall archer moved across the room unobtrusively, and came to stand before the carver.  
  
"I will give it to them later," he said quietly, and saw the relief flare in Tawarant's eyes. The old carver had been Bronadui's teacher in the art of shaping wood skillfully, and it had grieved him to make this particular likeness.  
  
"Thank you, Tanglinna," he murmured, his gaze returning to Bronadui's widow and only child. A small smile of gratitude touched his lips, even as tears glistened in his eyes, before he turned and hurried from the room before he could be seen.  
  
The Master Archer slipped the delicate box into his tunic, and moved to join the joyful crowd of youngsters. It amused him that silence trickled in to replace the quiet laughter and voices when they became aware of his presence, but Prince Legolas, after his initial start of surprise, smiled up at him, almost as though he knew that Tanglinna had a surprise in store for them as well. The tall silver haired Elf smiled down at them, such a gentle, amused smile that the Elflings didn't know what to think. Thranduil gazed over at him, shaking his head in delight as he knew what the surprise was. The Master Archer never failed to amaze him with the contrasting aspects of his personality. Tanglinna raised grey eyes to him and winked.  
  
"I have a surprise for you as well," he said to the young Elves. "Take off your damp cloaks and follow me to the kitchens, if you please. Bring your cocoa, I believe the King has more waiting for you below."  
  
Brenillass and Glaurhunant exchanged smiles, and bid the younglings have fun in the kitchen as they went to see if baby Laerlend, Brenillass' and Thranduil's infant daughter, had awakened from her nap.  
  
The young Elves stripped off sodden cloaks and boots, then followed King Thranduil and Tanglinna down the corridor toward the warm kitchens where the Master Archer presented each of them with a small basket filled with cookies shaped like arrows, decorated with colorful sprinkles and icing. They looked at him in disbelief when he told them he had baked them himself. It wasn't until Maeraes had laughingly told them that it was indeed true that they began to believe. The head of Gladaran Thamas' kitchens told of the funny picture the tall archer made, wearing a long apron, his face dotted with flour, long fingers kneading the dough to just the right consistency. Tavor and Mithereg exchanged skeptical glances at this, causing Thranduil to laugh aloud with delight.  
  
"Who do you think taught me to bake?" the king asked them, taking much delight in the wide sparkling eyes of his youngest "hunters." He produced his own baskets of iced cookies dusted with silvery sugar shaped like spiders, much to the children's amusement.  
  
Soon the kitchen was filled with laughter and the sound of munching as little - and not so little - Elves ate the cookies prepared by a King and his Master Archer.  
  
*****************************  
  
Later that afternoon, while Brethil joined Legolas and Tavor to decorate the windows of Car an Neled with greenery left over from that which had been gathered that morning, Tanglinna gave the memorial likeness of Bronadui to Glaurhunant. He held the grieving widow in his arms as she had wept anew over her loss, holding the likeness in one slim hand, which was pressed to her broken heart. He knew how she felt, having lost his own wife and their unborn son so long ago just before the terrible battle of Dagorlad. Glaurhunant took comfort in his steady presence as she always had.  
  
When Brethil returned later that afternoon, he was surprised to see Tanglinna's cloak hanging on the carved wooden hooks near the door. His father had shaped them in the likeness of slender braches with upturned leaves serving to hold the various articles that hung there. He found his mother and Tanglinna seated near the fire, holding cups of hot, fragrant tea. The smell of fresh greenery scented the air, mingled with the smell of freshly baked bread and treats. The carvings done by his father, of woodland creatures and birds, decorated the mantle, which was shaped like the image of two great trees twining up its sides, the shelf supported by their leafy tops. When he had been smaller Brethil had delighted in searching for the small hidden birds and animals that inhabited the skillfully carved branches, running his slender fingers over the smooth wood, tracing the ones he was particularly fond of.  
  
"There you are, nin ion (my son), " Glaurhunant said with a smile as she rose to greet him. "Master Tanglinna has come for a visit."  
  
Tanglinna rose, smiling down at his friend's son. He had seen the quick flash of apprehension, and knew that Brethil had already discerned the purpose of this visit. Before the child could give in to the desire to shutter his rush of unwanted emotion, Tanglinna held out one long, slender hand.  
  
"Come, Brethil," he said quietly, in a tone not often heard, for the Master Archer could be gentle and caring when he chose. "I have a story to tell you. You do like Yuletide stories, don't you?"  
  
Brethil's eyes darted to his mother, who smiled at him, nodding encouragingly, and seated herself at Tanglinna's knee on a pile of plump cushions scattered about the floor in preparation for the story to be told. Tanglinna took Brethil's hand and drew Brethil onto his lap.  
  
"This is a tale about someone who would charm the birds from the tress on Yuletide Eve," he began. He saw the flicker of recognition in the child's solemn eyes, and felt the slender body tense. "Once there was an Elf," he began in a low, pleasant voice watching Brethil's face intently. Another hidden gift of the Master Archer's was the gift of telling stories. Brethil found his reluctance to listen to this particular story fading as the soft words filled the warm air.  
  
"This tall, strong Elf had a beautiful, kind voice, and the birds of the woods loved him dearly, for he made certain that they were fed during the long, cold season of winter when their food lay hidden beneath icy snow," Tanglinna continued, gently stroking the back of Brethil's head.  
  
"Just like," Brethil whispered so quietly that Glaurhunant leaned forward to hear the tremulous words, "just like Ada?"  
  
Tanglinna smiled and nodded, his eyes touching Glaurhunant's.  
  
"Yes, just like your Ada. He was a very gentle soul, and the birds could sense this. So kind hearted was he that he even left out food for the squirrels, which others find so troublesome." A slow smile spread over Tanglinna's face as he thought of this, recalling very clearly how Bronadui had special feeders made just for the squirrels, which he filled with all manner of treats for the pesky little animals. Squirrels could be troublesome and irritating, but they were fun, delightful little creatures just the same. He told of the special song that the Elf would sing, and the birds would flock to him, delighting in his beautiful voice and gentle spirit.  
  
Brethil bit at his lip, feeling tears begin to build. The traitorous lip quivered as he recalled that his Ada had done this as well. He remembered trying to help him carve a decoration for the feeders that were filled in the early autumn, much to the joy of the grey, red, and black squirrels of Mirkwood. He had tried to carve an acorn, though it looked very lopsided and not quite like anything at all, most especially an acorn, but his Ada had praised his effort, and hadn't even attempted to "fix" it. He found himself listening to Tanglinna's words about the Bird Charmer, his heart aching and rejoicing at the same time. When at last the old Elf's voice died away Brethil gazed up into his face, fingers knotting about his long braid, and murmured,  
  
"Is that story about Ada?"  
  
Tanglinna smiled, one hand moving to gently squeeze Glaurhunant's shoulder, seeing the tears that glistened on her fair cheeks.  
  
"Yes, it is, tithen min (little one)," Tanglinna murmured, feeling the slight tremor that passed through the youngling's body. "I loved your Ada very much. He was my good friend, and I miss him greatly. I am sharing this story about him with you so we can remember him together. I want to share my memories of him with you and your Naneth, as I want you to share your stories about him with me. Even though your Ada may not be here with us, he will always be here," he touched Brethil's chest, "and here." The hand moved to rest on the child's head. "He will live on in our hearts and in our memories, so he will always be with us."  
  
Brethil gulped slightly, his pale grey eyes widening. Suddenly he burst into tears, burying his head against Tanglinna's strong chest. The archer's scent was akin to that of his Ada's, reminiscent of the outdoors; calling to mind trees and animals, crisp snow and summer rains. Glaurhunant rose to her knees and placed her arms about them both, silent tears falling. When at last Brethil's sobs quieted, and he drew back slightly to throw his small arms about his Naneth, Tanglinna smiled, and stroked the child's tousled braid, before wiping away his own tears.  
  
"Now tithen min," he said in a soft voice, "it is your turn."  
  
"My turn?" Brethil asked quietly, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose on the green handkerchief the Master Archer handed him.  
  
"Yes. I wish to hear a story about your Ada, told by you."  
  
Brethil frowned and blinked, unaware of how important this seemingly simple request was for the two others. He drew in a shaky breath, his eyes moving to Glaurhunant, as he searched for what he could say. He swallowed and cleared his throat, then began to speak. The words were hesitant at first, but then they burst forth, gathering speed as his characteristic chatter took over, the grey eyes shining with happiness and tears as he spoke of his beloved Ada and the things they had done together.  
  
Glaurhunant's tears continued to flow silently as she listened with great joy at the bittersweet remembrances, and the sweet voice that spoke of them. A calming peace flooded her, and she reached up to touch her son's soft cheek, the other hand resting atop the Master Archer's.  
  
When at last the words had run out, Tanglinna took the small black memorial box and handed it to Brethil. The child knew what the box contained, and he felt a momentary reluctance to open it as one finger stroked the soft black velvet. Slowly he flipped the silver clasp and eased the lid up.  
  
Inside was the memorial carving of Bronadui, Glaurhunant's beloved hervenn (husband), and Adar of Brethil. It was an exquisite likeness done of a pale wood, almost ivory in color. Tawarant had taken special care and thought in its crafting. The strong handsome face was smiling, the long hair caught in a clasp and draped over one shoulder. Perched on the opposite shoulder was a squirrel, the small face nestled against Bronadui's cheek. One slender hand was raised, and a small bird was seated on it, gazing up at the Elf's face. Even though tears coursed down his cheeks, Brethil smiled and gently touched the carved cheek.  
  
"Im meleth le, Ada (I love you, Daddy)," he whispered. "Im meleth le anuir(I love you forever *eternity*)."  
  
************************************  
  
Later that night, all the Elves of Mirkwood gathered beneath the great Yule Tree, its lights twinkling softly as though stars had fallen from the skies and come to nestle amidst the spreading green boughs. Beautiful Elven voices filled the cold air, rising to the stars above, for the snow had ceased and Elbereth's wondrous lights shone brightly in the dark winter sky.  
  
King Thranduil stood with his family, his glorious voice mingling with those of his people. He turned his head slightly to smile down at his wife who stood at his side, baby Laerlend curled up in her arms, wrapped in a snowy blanket embroidered with silver snowflakes. The babe's eyes were wide as she stared at the lights, delighting in the sound of the voices that encompassed her on every side in a blanket of lovely song. Brenillass smiled back at her husband, and moved to lean against him, feeling one of his arms slide about her slender waist. Legolas stood between his brothers, one small hand nestled in Celebross', the other in Aralith's. The youngest prince enjoyed the singing and the excitement of the night. He knew the magic was at work; all he had to do was look to where Tanglinna stood with Brethil and his Naneth. His friend's face was lit with a serenity that had long been absent. Legolas smiled, feeling very contented and happy. His eyes moved to where two tall men stood, one with a long white beard tucked beneath a flowing silver scarf. Mithrandir and his brother Istar Radagast the Brown stood side by side, ancient eyes twinkling as brightly as the lights in the Tree. Mithrandir had gladly shown them his "Yule Socks" earlier, which were delightfully striped in red and white. Radagast had grinned as he showed his own socks, which were striped in green and white. Later there would be fireworks in the clearing provided by Mithrandir, who delighted in his "lights and smoke." It would indeed be a magical night.  
  
After the singing King Thranduil stepped forward, his face set in serene lines as he gazed out at his people.  
  
"Tonight we celebrate the life that we have been given, the bounty of gifts we have received. We give thanks also for our family and our dear friends, whose lives so enrich and fulfill our own. We also remember those that have departed from us this year, whether to the peace of the Halls of Mandos, or by the grey ships that take them away from our shores. Tonight we honor them by placing their memorials on the Yule Tree, and tell a remembrance of them as we keep them alive in our hearts and memories." The King's eyes slid to where Brethil stood. He could see the sorrow that filled the little one's eyes, and the small black box that he clasped to his chest. Slowly the families that carried the memorial boxes started to come forward to place the memorial images on the Tree, and to share tales of the departed. At last it was Glaurhunant and Brethil's turn. The tall slender Elf maid took her son's hand to lead him to the Tree. He hesitated, then looked back at Tanglinna, small fingers curling about the Master Archer's. The old elf smiled down at the child, and followed him to stand at the tree's base. Brethil smiled at his mother, then reached up for Tanglinna to take him into his arms, so he might place the image of Bronadui as high on the Tree as he could. All eyes were drawn to the carving placed so lovingly by his son on the fragrant branches.  
  
Brethil was barely aware of all the eyes that gazed at him in sympathy as his fingers traced the lines of the face once more. He knew that his Naneth wanted him to be the one to tell a story of his Ada, so he drew a deep breath, not feeling the familiar tears that streaked his face.  
  
"I - I want to tell you about my Ada," he began in a quiet voice when Tanglinna had placed him back on the ground, "but I think I will sing a song instead." He gazed up at Glaurhunant, and she nodded smiling. Brethil's eyes went to Tanglinna once more, the archer gently squeezing the child's hand in assurance. Though the pain of loss would never entirely leave, healing had truly begun this night.  
  
A clear, young voice filled the cold air as Brethil sang the song his father had composed for the birds. Thranduil gazed down at Brenillass, bending to kiss the top of her head, tears sliding down his cheeks. He wondered what he and the children would do without her to fill their lives with such love and care. He would not want to live with such sorrow. He hoped he would never have to.  
  
Legolas turned then, and grinned up at his parents. He had known the magic would work, and indeed it had. He understood why both his parents had tears on their cheeks. He knew they were tears of sorrow at the thought of Bronadui and the others that were no longer living here in Mirkwood, but he knew they were tears of joy as well. And of wonder. For as the Elves stood watching Brethil Bronadui sing, they heard the sound of wings in the air. The birds of winter hearing the beloved song, had risen from their rest and flown to the Yule Tree, roosting in its branches, their voices joining with the child's as they too remembered Bronadui, their friend. Glaurhunant stared in wonder at the gathering in the Tree, new tears streaking her cheeks. It seemed that the Elves weren't the only ones that recalled the gentle Elf who could charm the birds from the trees on Yuletide Eve.  
  
Later that night, bright festive music played and voices sang. Above them in the dark sky fireworks burst into bright colors, some of them shaped like the birds so beloved by Bronadui. The thing that filled the Elves of Mirkwood with most joy though was the sound of a familiar young voice chattering away about his Ada. And on this night, no one even thought to tell him to "Shut up."  
  
Legolas was seated on one side of Brethil, who was perched on Tanglinna's lap. Mirkwood's youngest prince smiled, his blue eyes sparkling brightly as he listened to every word Brethil was saying. Tavor sat on Brethil's other side, a carefully balanced plate of sweets on his lap, his mouth sticky with sugar, and a smile. The magic had worked, as Legolas knew it would. Yes, there was magic afoot; it seemed to glimmer in the very air. After all, it was Yuletide!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes  
  
Ennor is Middle Earth.  
  
The Tricksy Trio is about 9 human years old, or about 22.5 Elf years.  
  
Yes, al! I know that I started at least two sentences with "and", but it seemed right. :)  
  
  
  
I hope that all of you have a bright and joyous Yuletide! Many blessings on you and yours! 


End file.
